by Adele Abbott
“No, I’m not. I’ll have you know that felines were speed dating long before you two-leggeds came up with the idea.”
“I don’t have time to chauffeur you around.”
“You owe me for what you did to me at the wedding. I still haven’t got over that.”
“Do you plan to guilt trip me about that forever?”
“Probably.”
Chapter 2
After a little gentle persuasion (red not pink), I eventually managed to convince Winky that he should let me get to my desk and computer. When I sat down, I spotted the note I’d left for myself before I went away on honeymoon: Consult with Grandma, re marketing.
After the start to the day I’d just had, the last thing I wanted to do was go cap in hand to Grandma, but it had to be done. Luther had made it quite clear that if I didn’t increase my turnover and profitability soon, the business might go to the wall. The thought of having to look for a job was even less appealing than having to ask Grandma for help. The only bosses I’d ever had were my dad and myself. I wasn’t sure I’d do well working for someone else.
To my surprise, she answered on the first ring.
“Yes?”
“It’s me, Grandma.”
“I know that. Your name is right there on the screen in front of me.”
“I’m back from honeymoon.”
“And you rang to tell me that? Unlike you, I don’t have time for idle chit chat. I have a new product to launch.”
“What’s that?”
“The anti-ageing cream. I told you all about it.”
“Right. I remember now.”
“So? What do you want?”
“I need your help.”
“With what? Are you fed up with that human of yours already? Do you want me to dispose of him for you? I could do it very discreetly.”
“No, of course not. Jack and I are very much in love.”
“What is it then? Hurry up.”
“Business hasn’t been great lately, so—”
“You want a job. Why didn’t you say so?”
“No, I don’t want a job. I wondered if you could help with my marketing? I have to try and pull in some new clients.”
“What’s in it for me?”
“The satisfaction of helping your granddaughter?”
“No, seriously.” She cackled. “What’s in it for me?”
“I don’t know. What do you want? I can’t afford to pay you.”
“How about twenty percent of all the new business I help to generate?”
“How about five percent?”
“Ten.”
“Okay, ten.”
“Right, bye.”
“Hold on, Grandma. When do we start?”
“I’ll be in touch.”
The line went dead.
***
The wailing sound made Winky’s ears prick up. “What’s that?”
“No idea.” The noise seemed to be coming from the outer office, so I went to investigate. “Mrs V? What’s wrong?”
She was in floods of tears, and it was several minutes before she was able to speak.
“I’m sorry, Jill.”
“There’s no need to apologise. Just tell me what’s the matter.”
“I’ve just heard that one of my oldest friends, Pat Volkes, has died. We’ve known one another since we were children.”
“I’m so sorry. Was it expected?”
“Not really. I mean, she was getting on in years, but aren’t we all?”
We?
Mrs V continued, “She was in reasonable health. At least, I thought so.”
“If you’d like to go home—”
“No, but I will need to take time off for the funeral. It’s next week.”
“Of course. Did she have family?”
“Just a daughter, but she lives in Wales. It’s only a couple of months since Pat moved into a care home. She did it as much for the company as anything else.”
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to go home?”
“No, I’m okay now. It just came as a bit of a shock, that’s all.”
“I’ll make us both a cup of tea, shall I?”
“That would be nice. Thank you, dear.”
“What was that noise?” Winky said. “If it’s another cat, I’ll sort it out.”
“It wasn’t a cat. It was Mrs V.”
“What on earth is wrong with her?”
“She’s just heard that a friend of hers has died.”
“At her age, she must be used to that. She’s only just hanging on by a thread herself.”
“Your compassion astounds me.”
“Coming from you, that’s pretty rich.”
“I’ll have you know that I’m full of compassion.”
“You’re full of something, but it doesn’t smell much like compassion to me.”
I’d enjoyed the honeymoon, but there had been one major problem: no custard creams.
Luckily, Mrs V had thought to buy a new packet ready for my return.
“How many would you like, Jill?”
“Err—you can just leave the packet.”
“Are you sure that’s wise? Can you trust yourself?”
“Of course. Self-restraint is my middle name.”
Just then, someone called from the outer office, “Hello!”
While Mrs V went to check who the visitor was, I slipped the packet of biscuits into the top drawer of my desk. Just for safe keeping, obviously.
“There’s a Mrs Shuttlebug to see you. She said she dropped in on the off-chance that you could see her.”
“Show her in, please.”
“Before I do, I should have mentioned earlier that I’ve booked an appointment for you this afternoon. It’s a Mr and Mrs Banks at two o’clock. I hope that’s okay.”
“That’s fine.”
“Deloris, this is a surprise.”
“Hello, Jill. I hope you don’t mind my just dropping in like this. I wanted to share my good news with you.”
“Take a seat.”
“I found out on Friday that Cuthbert’s book is going to be published.”
“Really? That’s fantastic.”
“And it’s all thanks to you. The story about the aurochilla made all the newspapers in Candlefield. It was even picked up by radio and TV. Not long after that, I was contacted by two different publishers who were both interested in acquiring the rights to Cuthbert’s work.”
“Have you decided which one you’ll go with?”
“Actually, I was also approached by a literary agent. She came to see me—a very nice lady by the name of Brenda Badstorm. I signed with her, and she handled the negotiations for the book. We agreed a deal with a publisher on Friday.”
“I’m so pleased for you.”
“Cuthbert would have been thrilled.”
“Do you ever hear from him?”
“Sorry? Oh, I see what you mean. No. He and I discussed the matter many times, and we agreed that we’d bypass Ghost Town. He won’t find out about the book until I join him, and I’m not planning on doing that just yet. It’ll be a nice surprise for him when I do.”
“I trust your agent negotiated a good deal for you?”
“I think so. It’s certainly much more than my pension pays. I’d like to give you something, Jill. By way of a thank you.”
“That’s really not necessary.”
“I thought you might like a first edition when it’s published. Even if you don’t read it, it’ll make a nice coffee table book.”
“That’s very kind. I’d like that.”
“Great.” She stood up. “I won’t take up any more of your time. I’m sure you’re busy. I’m going to spend the rest of the day shopping, by way of celebration. It’s not often I come to the human world.”
“You should have asked for a cut of the royalties,” Winky said, after Deloris had left.
“There’s more to life than money.”
“You’ve changed your tune. Married life has made y
ou soft.”
***
Monday was Aunt Lucy’s day off from babysitting, so I thought I’d pay her a visit while it was quiet over there.
Best laid plans, and all that.
Amber, Pearl and the babies were all there.
“Jill!” Amber gave me a hug. “How was the honeymoon?”
“Do you have photos?” Pearl said.
“The honeymoon was great, thanks. Jack took some photos with his digital camera. I’ll copy them onto my phone before the next time I come over.”
“Morning, Jill,” Aunt Lucy called from the sofa. She had the babies on either side of her.
“I thought Monday was your day off?”
“So did I.” She grinned.
“We don’t like to think of Mum being all alone in this house.” Amber picked up a soft toy.
“That’s right,” Pearl said. “We thought she’d like the company.”
“How very selfless of the two of you. By the way, what do I call the little ones now?”
“Lily,” Amber said.
“Lily,” Pearl echoed.
“Come on, you two, this is ridiculous. You can’t call them both by the same name.”
“I’ve been trying to tell them that.” Aunt Lucy sounded exasperated. “Not that it’s done any good.”
“I decided on Lily first,” Amber said.
“No, you didn’t,” Pearl countered.
This needed sorting out once and for all. “If you don’t do something about it now, the two girls will be really confused when they’re older. You both liked the name Lil, didn’t you?”
They nodded.
“And you both like the name Lily?”
They nodded again.
“Right then. We just need to decide which one will be Lil and which one will be Lily.”
“How are we supposed to do that?” Pearl said.
“Wait here.” I went through to the kitchen where Aunt Lucy kept the notepad she used for her shopping lists. I scribbled the names on separate sheets of paper, folded them up, and returned to the lounge. “Okay. Who wants to pick first?”
“Me.” Amber grabbed one.
Pearl took the other.
“Lily!” Pearl said.
“Lil.” Amber smiled. “I always preferred that name, anyway.”
“Thank goodness that’s settled.”
“Jill.” Aunt Lucy got up from the sofa. “Why don’t you come and sit with Lil and Lily while I go and make us all a nice cup of tea?”
“Okay.” I took her place. “Now, which one is which?” I glanced from one baby to the other.
“That’s Lil, obviously.” Amber pointed to the baby on my right. “She’s the prettier one.”
“She is not,” Pearl said.
Oh boy.
“So, you two, have I missed anything while I’ve been away? No more brilliant new business initiatives, I hope?”
“No,” Amber said. “After the disaster of the self-order machines, we’re going to leave well alone.”
“You are still using the machines though, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, but hardly any of the customers bother with them. They were a complete waste of money.”
***
I’d magicked myself back to Washbridge, and was walking to the office when I bumped into an old nemesis of mine: Dougal Andrews—The Bugle’s star reporter.
Normally, I would have crossed the road to avoid him, but there was something about his demeanour that was different today, and curiosity got the better of me. When he spotted me walking towards him, he waved.
“Hello, Jill.”
Something was definitely amiss.
“Are you alright, Dougal?”
“Not really. A reporter friend of mine was murdered recently.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Donna was one of the best.”
Coming from Dougal Bugle, that was praise indeed. I’d always had him down as a male chauvinist pig.
“What happened?”
“She was killed in a hit-and-run in West Chipping.”
“I thought you said she’d been murdered?”
“She was. There’s no way that was an accident. Someone wanted her out of the way.”
“Why?”
“She’d been working undercover on a story. I reckon someone must have realised she was a reporter.”
“And murdered her? What was she working on?”
“I’ve no idea. No one knows. Donna was a freelance who’s provided articles to The Bugle for years. She got to pick her own stories. The first anyone knew about them was when she brought the completed feature to the editor. That fellow of yours works out of West Chipping now, doesn’t he?”
“Jack? Yeah.”
“Look. I realise that you and I have never been drinking buddies, but have a word with him, would you? Tell him they need to take a closer look at what happened because it was no accident.”
“Okay. I’ll mention it to him tonight.”
“Thanks.”
***
Mr and Mrs Banks arrived at two on the dot. Middle-aged, there was a distinct air of sadness about them.
“I’m Gordon and this is my wife, Christine.”
“Pleased to meet you both.”
“Are you Gooder or Maxwell?” he asked.
“Err—both, actually. There was a little misunderstanding with the new sign. I used to be Jill Gooder until I got married two weeks ago. Now I’m Jill Maxwell.”
“Is it just you here, then?” Christine said.
“Just me and the cat.” I pointed to Winky who was curled up asleep on the sofa. “But he isn’t much help to be honest.”
Winky opened his one eye and gave me that look.
“We’re here because our daughter, Annette, has gone missing,” Gordon said.
“We’re desperate,” his wife interrupted. “Please say you’ll help us.”
“How long has she been missing?”
“Two weeks.”
“What about the police? What have they done so far?”
“Absolutely nothing!” There was no mistaking the anger in his voice.
“That’s rather unusual. Have they said why they haven’t taken any action?”
“No, that’s why we’re here today. We can’t just stand by and do nothing.”
“Does your daughter normally live at home with you?”
“No. She shares a flat with a lovely young woman called Gaye.”
“You’ve spoken to her, I assume?”
“Of course, but she has no more idea of what’s happened than we do.”
“Does Annette work?”
“No. She’s a full-time student in her last year at college. We help her financially, so she doesn’t have to take a part-time job.”
“Boyfriend?”
“She did have one, but they split up a couple of months ago.”
“Could that have been the reason for her disappearance? Was she upset at the split?”
“A little, but not enough to disappear without a word.”
“Do you have a photo of Annette with you?”
Christine took one from her handbag and gave it to me.
“She’s very pretty. Is it okay if I hang onto this?”
“Of course.”
After Mr and Mrs Banks had left, I couldn’t help but feel there was something they weren’t telling me. The police are usually reluctant to consider an adult to be a missing person unless at least twenty-four hours has passed. But after two weeks, I could think of no good reason for the police not to have got involved. Maybe Jack would have some bright ideas.
***
When I arrived home, Tony and Clare, our next-door neighbours, were out front, and for the first time in weeks, they weren’t dressed in costumes.
“Hello, you two. Don’t you have a Con this weekend?”
“Hi, Jill.” Clare managed only a weak smile. “We should be going to BearCon, which is one of our favourites, but I don’t think we�
��re going to make it.”
“You both look a little peaky if you don’t mind me saying.”
“We’re better now than we’ve been for a couple of days, but I’m not sure we’ll be well enough to make it to the Con. It’s a pity because we have some fabulous costumes. Mine is a panda, and Tony’s is a polar bear.”
“Have you had a virus?”
“No, at least, I don’t think so. I reckon it was something we ate.”
Jack arrived home just before six. “I’ve just bumped into Jimmy and Kimmy. They look terrible.”
“Of course they do. Why would anyone want to dress up as a clown?”
“They weren’t in costume. They were coming back from the corner shop. They both look quite ill, and they think it might be something they’ve eaten.”
“That’s weird. I saw Tony and Clare earlier, and they said exactly the same thing.”
“How was your first day back at work?”
“Not great. They managed to get the sign wrong; it says Gooder and Maxwell.”
“Catchy. I like it.”
“I don’t. Then I had to ask Grandma for help with my marketing.”
“How did that go?”
“It was every bit as painful as you might expect. She wants ten percent of any new business she helps to bring in.”
“That’s family for you.”
“I saw Dougal Andrews from The Bugle. One of his colleagues, Donna Lewis, was killed in a hit-and-run in West Chipping. Have you heard anything about it?”
“I saw some mention of it. The car was found burnt out some miles away.”
“Dougal reckons it was deliberate. Donna was working undercover, and he thinks she may have upset the wrong person.”
“What was she working on?”
“No one knows.”
“It isn’t much to go on, but I’ll take a look at it tomorrow.”
“Thanks. Oh, and can you think of any reason why the police wouldn’t get involved in a situation where a young woman has been missing for two weeks?”
“None. After that length of time, we’re always going to get involved.”
“That’s what I thought.”
Chapter 3
Jack and I were walking down the street when, all of a sudden, the pavement in front of us tipped into the air. We were thrown to the ground, and began to roll down the road towards the giant chasm that had opened up beneath us.